Less Than Magical
by slightlysmall
Summary: When Gilderoy Lockhart publishes his autobiography, Rita Skeeter is dying to sink her teeth into the story. And if she's lucky, maybe she'll get to sink her teeth into a bit of him as well. But what she finds out when interviewing the author of Magical Me is, well, less than magical.


**Written for Camp Potter Fireworks show and for the Apprentice Competition. I used the prompts: (1) "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We all have light and dark within us; (2) "You're the most stubborn person I've ever encountered"; (3) "I thought I already told you that; (4) Mischievous; and (5) the genre romance.**

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I'm a journalist. Of course I was curious; curiosity is my full-time occupation. So when Gilderoy Lockhart came out with his biography, it was my professional duty to interview him. Looking back now, that's what I keep telling myself. Curiosity, interviews, those are typical of journalists, of course, but somewhere, vaguely, I remember learning about objectivity in an interview as well. With Gilderoy, that got thrown out of the window. Even journalists are fans of some people; even journalists have weaknesses. Gilderoy was mine.

When _Magical Me_ came out, I got hold of him. I wondered if it might be difficult to ask for an interview, but he was more than happy to oblige, and I could feel my heart beating against my ribcage at the thought of getting my Quick Quotes Quill near him. I hoped he would be a little shy, pull us toward a private place where we could talk without fear of interruption, but he suggested the Leaky Cauldron.

At least there was an inn upstairs.

I wondered if I could have my way with him in more than just _Witch Weekly_, and Gilderoy occupied my thoughts the whole week leading up to our interview. I wasn't sleeping anymore, and I cancelled all but the most important of appointments and showed up half an hour early for ours.

"Gilderoy," I said when he arrived ten minutes late. I stood up, smiling with a smile not quite as winning as his own. I reached out to shake his hand, but he leaned in to kiss both of my cheeks instead. My heart fluttered; I was grateful my own quill could take notes for me so I could hide my shaking hands.

"Ms. Skeeter! May I call you Rita?"

"Of course!"

"Rita, darling, how kind of you to meet me. Naturally, I knew my biography would stir up some interest, but to receive an interview request from someone as prominent as you, was, I must admit, a flattery I didn't expect."

"Gilderoy, why thank you. Could you please tell me about what led you to write this fantastic biography?"

My quill was ready over the parchment and he leaned into me, placing a hand on my fingers as he spoke. "Well, if I may say so myself - and many people admit my authority on such matters - I have a fascinating life story. My interest in telling it was mainly for the sake of the public. I knew they would be missing out without hearing it, and my writing was entirely a public service."

I wondered if I could manage a non-verbal spell to grow my eyelashes so I could bat them more effectively. The interview continued, although I was not at my academic best, distracted by luscious lips that sometimes parted to reveal a tongue I fantasized as sharing my mouth instead of staying stuck inside his.

"Remind me why you wrote this book?" I asked about halfway through.

His eyebrows furrowed, his face contorted in confusion that made me ache for hurting him. "I thought I already told you that."

"Of course you did, of course, love - I mean, Gilderoy." I flushed at my amateur mistake; I should have known better. I certainly should have known better.

So when he leaned in and placed his lips almost against my ear to whisper, I couldn't have been more surprised. "You can call me love all you want when this interview is over. I've booked a room for the evening, and you seem like the perfect person to share it with."

"You mean that, Gilderoy?"

"You fascinate me, Ms. Skeeter. I wouldn't mind getting to know what's underneath the best reporter in Britain."

I cleared my throat and pulled away, coughing gently. "I, um, I think I have everything I need for the interview, Mr. Lockhart. Thank you."

"Certainly, Ms. Skeeter," he said, standing up and lifting my hand gently to his lips. The kiss was firm, a hint of tongue beneath, unnoticeable to anyone watching, but throwing me off guard. "I hope to see you soon."

It took all my effort to wait, to count down three minutes before discreetly following him up the stairs and finding his door. I knocked and when he opened it, he was shirtless. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he said, his smile alluring. No wonder he'd won _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award five times. Sure, I was one of the judges, and partially biased, but he deserved it. Absolutely. "I would've pegged you as a good girl," he purred.

"The world isn't just good girls and Death Eaters, Gilderoy. There are shades in between, and trust me, I can have my moments of being downright naughty." I bit my lip, suddenly self-conscious. Was I as alluring as he was? Likely not. I didn't know what he saw in me. But still he pulled me in, eyes sparkling, and pushed me against the wall with a fierce kiss.

There were many things I expected in that room. I expected a tender lover with a smile that would melt me all on its own. I expected Gilderoy to be mischievous, maybe, to nip and bite and play.

I expected an experience that would last longer than a minute and a half.

None of the charm he had while clothed translated to the bedroom. He was clumsy in taking off my clothes, as if he were distracted, disinterested in me. He gave me no say, and when he collapsed on top of me before I could enjoy myself, I couldn't help my cry of, "That's all?"

"That's all you need, babe. And you don't know the amount of women who are dying to have the experience you just had, honey."

"Yeah, not if it gets out that this is all they're missing out on," I said, rolling out from underneath him with a disappointed sigh.

He glared at me, all hints of his award-winning smile gone. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever encountered."

I threw my clothes back on and he got out of bed as well. "_Stubborn_ isn't the word I would use, Gilderoy."

"I think you were determined you wouldn't enjoy it, just so you could let it slip in one of those articles," he said to his reflection while he preened.

"Right. Exactly. I didn't come up here to be infatuated by you. I came up here to find a flaw in you."

"I knew it! Oh, how I should have known better than to let a journalist in here, but you are just so attractive, I couldn't resist knowing what I would look like on top of you."

I slammed the door on him, but I'm not sure he noticed; he seemed too preoccupied with himself to know if whether I stayed or went. I entered his room willing to fall in love, but he must have thought love was just a game, or making love a chance to show off.

I haven't finished that article on _Magical Me_ yet. Maybe I'll let it slip that there are parts of him that are less than magical. Maybe not. We'll see where the story takes me. At any rate, he has won _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award for the last time.


End file.
